


quiet and falling

by bitterdwarfalmond



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, Dissociation, Gen, p5 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterdwarfalmond/pseuds/bitterdwarfalmond
Summary: What was he doing?What was this?A tangle of useless limbs limp against a freezing tile floor in his own apartment. A failure. But he had done his job… he did what was asked of him. He hadn’t failed, he did everything right. He followed his own plan to a T.But something felt wrong.--After the interrogation room, Akechi starts to falter.
Kudos: 11





	quiet and falling

It was wishful thinking really, to believe that this would be easy. Of course his control would be taken from him, pried straight from his stubborn fingers. Of course the heartbeat in his ears would be too loud. He didn’t notice it at first; slowly creeping up. Then refused to acknowledge it until it was a sporadic pounding that he could feel down to his toes. And of course, the moment he needs the tremor in his hands to just  **calm down** _ ,  _ they only shake harder.

No, he wouldn’t falter. He’s gotten this far already hasn’t he?  _ And  _ he’s done it alone. Has always been alone. He is  _ not  _ allowed to break--and crack, then eventually wither away until there is nothing left--now, not right now.

“You’d be throwing it away. Everything you’ve worked for. Your resolve is  **not** allowed to crumble now!” Akechi hisses under his breath, glaring at his reflection in the dingy bathroom mirror. But it isn’t threatening. It lacks any venom, the way his voice warbles with every strained syllable that passes his lips.

What a mess, this isn’t very becoming for a celebrity is it? There are tear tracks running down his face. He can’t remember when he started crying, or when his clothes started to feel restricting. As if they were trying to squeeze the truth out of him; and each hoarse breath that was dragged into his lungs only made them tighter. 

“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted…? For so long…and now-- now you can have it, it’s in your grasp now so why are you hesitating? WHY NOW!?”  _ Because I wouldn’t be able to close my hands around it.  _

_ You seemed sure of yourself then,  _ a familiar voice reverberates in his mind. But it’s tone is all wrong. Firm and loud where it used to be timid and oh so quiet.

_ A white knuckled grip, completely sure of itself. Didn’t even hesitate when-- _

The tone of his own voice startles him. “It was business, that’s all it was. Another job to be taken care of…that’s all you were…” 

_ Were you scared? _

“...”

_ Are you scared? _

He’s terrified. But he wouldn’t feel good about admitting that now would he? He drops his head into his hands and slowly sinks to the bathroom floor. It’s cold, and uncomfortable, but he’ll take it over arguing with his own reflection.

What was he doing?

What was this?

A tangle of useless limbs limp against a freezing tile floor in his own apartment. _ A failure.  _ But he had done his job… he did what was asked of him. He hadn’t failed, he did everything right. He followed his own plan to a T. 

But something felt wrong.

He should’ve felt…lighter? 

Finally able to relinquish a weight that was growing a little too heavy to bear in his chest.  _ That  _ should’ve been gone now.

Once a dark yet vivid crimson ran down their cheeks, strikingly beautiful (in a morbid way) against the pallor of their face as it collected by their chin. That’s when the weight should have unravelled itself from where it has nestled against the organs in his ribcage.

Bad luck and greed are what Akechi decides to blame it on. For why he’s still being weighed down by unrealistic desires and wants that were never his for the taking. 

He practically peels himself off the floor, bracing his hands against the sink as he leans in to stare into the mirror once again. 

The longer he stares, the less his facial features look as if they belong to him. He smiles, but it’s too sharp, so he tries again, and again, and again, until it’s saccharine and ready for tv, and absolutely nothing like him. 

Anyone would be able to tell (at this point) that this was all a well established act, although it’s starting to fall apart at the seams. The frayed edges were becoming more and more visible, it was only a matter of time before they snapped entirely. But he could hold it together. He’s going to hold it together. He’s not the only one with a time limit. 

Dull red eyes bore into his own. Dark bruises cradle them, proof of a deep seated exhaustion that sleep will never be able to fix on it’s own. But it’s nothing concealer can’t cover, he’ll be fine. This was fine. And if it wasn’t fine, well… that was fine too, it'll be over soon anyways. 

But for now, he has a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not really sure what I am doing yet, but I want to keep writing so I guess this is where that energy is going now.
> 
> Uh,, thank you for reading if you got this far... I have a lot of thoughts about how this *waves hands in the air* all of this went down, and how the quiet time after the interrogation room effected him; but I am too tired to articulate all of it. 
> 
> Thanks again <3


End file.
